


Only Dust Remains

by Skarlath



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Down by the duck pond, M/M, Manipulation, Mention of previous abuse, Thoughtless, Unexpected Guest, little whinging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:23:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2685896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skarlath/pseuds/Skarlath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come to me, my pet, and I will free you." The words from the Dark Lord just a few hours ago still echoed around his head, bouncing inside his skull like bees trapped in a jar. Freedom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Dust Remains

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, just a quick note - this may or may not have more added to it at a later date, currently it's a bit of a self-indulgent ramble that I wrote a while back and just found hidden away in a folder, so please don't read this expecting a full story with plot and such. Also it is unedited, so I'm afraid there may be some strange phrasings or repetitions hiding in there.
> 
> Thanks in advance for reading!

Limping heavily, Harry Potter stepped away from number 4 Privet Drive in the early morning light. Just as the other days when he had escaped from his Aunt and Uncle heavily injured, he would be allowed a relatively large degree of freedom - he could hide away in his bedroom, or as today, escape the house entirely. Having tripped and stumbled through the sleeping town, he eventually found his way to the edges of a familiar duck pond, where he finally allowed his body to collapse on the dew-dampened grass. A few precious, quiet moments passed with only his laboured breathing disturbing the gentle lapping of the water.

"Comfortable?" The oddly familiar, velveteen voice disturbed his failing attempt to regain any composure. With a start, Harry's head jerked over to find the voice's source, only resulting in a hiss of pain escaping him as the movement pulled on his abused skin. Eyes screwed shut, he waited for the wave of pain to pass, before gingerly looking at the man sat on the bench behind him.

 

A pair of glossy leather boots peeked out from beneath the hem of an inky black set of robes. Pale hands folded neatly in his lap, skin alabaster white in the early dawn glow. The face of the Dark Lord peered passively down at him, dark hair waving neatly by his ears, red eyes gleaming. Whilst Harry had only seen this man as a near-teenager in Albus Dumbledore's memories, or as a skeletal waif in the darkness of a graveyard, he could never forget that beautiful, timeless face. No words would escape him, there was nothing he could say to seeing the Dark Lord sat so casually in such a mundane, thoroughly muggle scene.

 

"Shall I take that as a yes?" The Dark Lord cocked his head thoughtfully as he stared down, pinning the boy in place with his heavy gaze. "I have, shall we say, a proposition for you, little one." Harry couldn't find within himself the desire to protest, to run away, even though he was fully expecting the older man to pull his wand out at any moment and torture him to death. Then again, what more torture could this man do that his relatives hadn't already? As though sensing the boy's drifting attention, he reached out a hand and gripped Harry's chin, pulling it forwards and in the process forcing the boy to twist and instead be kneeling with his knees almost touching those glossy boots. "There, that's much better isn't it? Now, pet, this," he gestured a hand towards the blood seeping through the tattered shirt he wore, "is dangerous. You know that Dumbledore knows exactly what happens to you every single summer, and he still insists on sending you back year after year, summer after summer. Come to me, my pet, and I will free you." Here he paused, humming lightly under his breath, "no, not today, I will give you some time to think before I return." He spoke no more, instead sitting back on the bench and finally taking his gaze away from the undersized child, as though he were sat alone in the peaceful park.

 

A huff of air escaped Harry, one that he had been unaware of holding. Hearing that word - freedom - and the near possessiveness in the Dark Lord's voice…. He shuddered. Staring at the grass, his thoughts wouldn't organise themselves, so instead he resigned himself to a beautifully empty-minded silence. He turned himself back around to watch the ducks, and startled as a hand shot forward and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back to lean against the bench, millimetres away from the older man's legs. A few more minutes of silence and he finally relaxed into his empty existance once more. Eventually he dropped his head to the side, thoughtlessly resting his cheek against those inky robes, and closed his eyes in pleasure as a hand reached forwards and began soothingly toying and tugging on his hair in a way that no other person had.

 

\------

 

"Come to me, my pet, and I will free you." The words from the Dark Lord just a few hours ago still echoed around his head, bouncing inside his skull like bees trapped in a jar. Freedom. As the thick leather of his uncle's belt fell against his spine for the second time in just as many days, it felt more as though the words themselves were being carved into his skin. Night after night, day after day behind the barred windows and locked doors, hidden behind cruel words and groping hands. Freedom.


End file.
